My Thane
by Nyra Makani
Summary: Shezerade isn't the happiest girl when she's named Thane of Markarth. Not that she hasn't yearned for that title, but with a new huscarl assigned to her, her life is about to become much more difficult than when she was alone. Argis the Bulwark had always wanted a Thane, that was his destiny. But when he is assigned a woman, a Khajiit, his dreams shatter.
1. Zero

0

Her steps were soundless upon the wooden stairs, her armor did not breathe a sigh as she crept towards the sky. She bore no weapons, just the claws native to her kind. The wood beneath her feet was ancient, carrying her weight against every law of physics towards the stars. But she did not waste a thought to the planks beneath her feet, as long as it held her weight, she didn't care.

The scratching of tired boots on wood tore through the silence of the night and she froze, waited, until the cloak of silence had settled over her once more. She waited and waited another 30 heartbeats, the she took the next step. Finally the winds of the night waved around her nose and she soundlessly took an lungful of air.

The eyes of a Khajiit see well at night, and she was no exception. She saw as if it were bright day. She saw every splinter waiting to burry itself into her soft paws, every crack in the woods that would betray her. And she saw the Thalmor guard, half alseep on his post. This one guarded the gate, calling as soon as it moved. She would worry about the others, but this one could see the whole fortress, this one had to go. She could move without a sound and trace, but she could not control the reflection of the moonlight on her armor. He had to go. She held her breath. No sound. In one fluid movement she pressed her hand over the mouth of the guard to muffle his screams as her teeth tore open the arteries in his neck. Hungily she lapped up the blood. She could taste her own poison that would hunt his heartbeat into a wild chase and prevent his blood from clotting. She could feel how the hungerbeast within her calmed, but the body was empty long before it was sated. Angrily she wanted to shove the useless piece of meat from her, but she immediately regained control over herself. No traces. She dragged the body back down the tower and shove it into a chest filled with furrs and clothes. She had no time to feed. Not now. She had to be gone before the sun vapourized her greatest advantage into a burning ball of light.


	2. One

1

"I hereby name you Thane of Markarth. I will assign you a Hucarl to ease your burdens. Take this from my peronal armoury as a sign of my thanks." A servant of the Jarl handed her a dwarven axe that shimmered with a spell. She bowed and her claws klinked softly as her hands closed around the axe.

"I thank you, my Lord. I am honoured to serve you." The Jarl smiled and waved his hand to signal that she was free to go. Shezerade bowed once more and turned to leave. The stone of the floor that had bowed to the hands of the Dwemer so long ago was cold beneath her fett. She adapted her step to match that of a guard patrolling up and down the hall and the soft noises made by her armour vanished. She pushed open the heavy metal doors and could feel the blood of the monster boil up inside her veins as it protested the sunlight. But she smiled at the risen sun that made her white furr glow and dipped the towers of Markarth in gold. She loved Markarth, loved the ancient architecture, the corners and bridges, the many levels and the immortality of it all.

She turned her steps to the left to Vlindrel Hall and passed beneath the roaring Waterfall that thundered down from Understone Keep, then she froze. She was Thane now, at home her huscarl was waiting for her. Her heart froze and she whirled around to head for the temple. Sure, Dibella wasn't really the entinty for a sellsword to turn to, but she was the godess of women and would maybe have an ear for her fears. The sounds of her footsteps were suffocated by the noise of the market beneath as she climbed the stairs. She opened another pair of heavy metal doors and Shezerade let out a sigh as the sun could no longer burn her fur. When she was in a good mood she could enjoy the heat and let it remind her of the singing sun of her home, but usually that just brought the wrong memories.

She allowed her eyes a few moments to get used to the dark light, then she walked past the statues of a beautiful woman that held a lily to her head. She sat on one of the chairs beneath one of the statues. Her eyes got caught on the marvellous body of the woman and her thoughts wandered. She was definitly not happy having a Huscarl that would offer his life to protect hers, but refusing would be an unforgivable insult to the Jarl and she liked Markarth a bit too much to move already. She didn't want to let a stranger into her house, have him dig around in her stuff, finding memories, the wrong ones, the ones that were too dangerous for anyone to find. But she also didn't like the thought of dragging a wannabe warrior along and have him babble her crazy with his talk of honour and dying for glory. She would have to park him in some tavern for every second contract anyway, otherwise she would visit the Cidna Mines on much less volountary terms than last time.

"Well, well, well, if that isn't our little kitty. What brings you to our temple on a day as pretty as this one?" Orla smiled as she walked up to her and Shezerade jumped to bow in time to avoid Orlas hug. "Come, sit. Something tells me you are overthinking something."

"Dibella blessed you with sight. True, Shezerade is trubled." Orla lead her to a stonbench that had been chisseled out of the mountain and sank onto the stone with the elegance of one of the statues. Shezerade sat besider her, painfully aware of her armor and her own clumsy movements.

"So tell me, what troubles the new Thane of Markarth?" Shezerade sighed. It was eerie how well the fire of news traveled on the stones of the city.

"Exactly that. Shezerade does not mind serving the Nord that rules her city, but..."

"Your city," Orla interrupted with a sceptically raised eyebrow.

"Shezerade is as much part of Markarth as the stone is part of her. It is what her heart longs for when the sky cries of the little ghost fall. Shezerade belongs to Markarth, so the immortal city belongs to her." Orla smiled.

"It is good to hear you have found a home."

"Skyrim is the Khajiit's home. But Markarth and Vlindrell Hall are the paws of the mother she flees to when she is afraid."

"You are a Khajiit at heart, I am happy to see. But tell me, what do you fear?" Shezerade fought her racing hert and tried to convince herself that she had sopken truthfully. That all Skyrim was her home, that she could go wherever if she did not want to return to the home that Orla had called her home.

"The Nord waiting in my halls."

"You fear your huscarl?" Orla looked at her as if even the thought was incomprehensible.

"He will expect Shezerade to be the hero for whose deeds the Jarl has deemed her worthy of the honour of Thane."

"And are you not that hero?"

"Not always, no."

"And you fear what he will think if he sees that you are just another kitty? He is to serve you, not judge you."

"But I do not want to be served! If the Nord is to keep Shezerade company, he is not to serve." Again Orla smiled. She smiled a lot and Shezerade liked her all the more for it. It made her bautiful and tha Khajiit appreaciated beauty.

"You wish for him to be your friend, but you fear that he is too much of a Nord to look you in the eye." Shezerade said nothing, Orla needed no confirmation that she was right. "Well, you cannot hide from your house forever. Take him outside. Have him accompany you with something harmless, Nord men are easy to scare. A little bird told me Legate Rikke wished to speak with you, why don't you take up on that." Shezarde groaned and sank even deeper into the bench of stone. She had hoped to keep out of the civil war that tore her home apart. But the General of the Legion had commanded her to him and had forewarded her to Legate Rikke.

"You are right. Shezerade thanks for your prescious time, Orla. I pray to see you soon." Orla smiled another one of her beautiful smiles and brought her to the door.

"Be careful out there kitten. I would miss you purr if something were to happen to you." Shezerade nodded and a soft rumble escaped her throat.

"May Dibella light your path."

"And yours." With another bow Shezerade shoved the heavy door open and her feet met the warm stone of Markarth.


	3. Two

2

Now following Orlas quest, her feet swiftly climbed to the third highest building of Markarth, Vlindrel Hall. Her heartbeat galloped ahead and left her breathless on the stairs. She gave herself a moment to catch her breath and calm her racing heart. Gods, she hated speaking to new people. Especially Nords. There was not a mind under the sun that set its opinions in unbudging stones faster than that of a Nord. A Nord was bearable when he respected you, but it was hard to win a Nords respect, no matter what Orla said. Breathe. She pushed open the door to her home.

A chair snarled over the stone floor and a tall Nord rose to greet her. When she had reached the livingroom he kneeled and bowed his head, such that his hair fell to hide his face. It had the colour of sunlight and straw.

"It is an honour to serve you, my Thane. They call me Argis and I swear to defend you and what is yours with my life."

"The honour is mine. Rise." Shezerade was surprised at the calmness of her voice compared to her heart that beat like a bird, furiously trying to escape the cage of her ribs. She could feel his gaze on her face, like fingers combing through her grey fur. The Nords didn't like Khajiits. And she hated having to prove people wrong. She enjoyed living behind the masks of first impressions that others handed to her. But she could forget that here. This was not a fleeting meeting with a lord, meet here, gone the next hour.

Argis rose and now it was her turn to inspect him. He was a head taller than her, but that was nothing new, everyone was taller than her. A trait for which she had thanked the Gods many times. He had hair of gold and eyes of amber to suit it. Well, one eye. His left eye was white like the moons and she could see the light rise where the blind iris mimicked the movements of his good eye. He was strong and muscular, his body trained by the heavy armor he wore.

"They call this one Shezerade. Argis will suit her well. Now, let the Khajiit give you a new armour, as a welcoming gift. She has one around here." She bade him to follow her and dragged the ebony armor out of her closet. She herself was too weak to wear heavy armor and it was totally against her whole style of fighting, but she loved the fine markings on the smooth gray metal, so she had kept the armor anyway. Argis' eyes widened as his gaze fell upon the prescious piece of metal that was to serve his protection. Carefully he took it into his hands, as if it were a young bird, not an armor. "Shezerade also has weapons for you and she can give you a good shield." Argis bowed.

"I thank you, my Thane." Shezerade tried a smile.

"Do not thank her yet. You are strong and well trained with ax and sword, you will make her life a great deal easier. And for that she needs you alive." Argis crudely copied her smile, unsure what to make of her comment, but followed anyway into the encantment room, where she kept the weapons she didn't use, but was too emotionally attached to sell, as well as those she simply found pretty. She pulled out an ebonyshield out of somewhere and after some digging also found a fitting waraxe. Together they carried the stuff into his room, where they dropped it onto his bed. "Shezerade will ask you to join her on a ride to Solitude tomorrow. She has a horse for you."

"Your wish is my commany, my Thane."

"Then the rest of the day is Argis'. Shezerade will ride at sunrise, meet her down at Slavius' farm."

"As you command, Thane." Shezerade nodded and retreated into the enchantment room, her heart racing. She closed the door behind her and fell onto the stone bench, her knees weak. It would be a horrible ride. But at least he would be useful. Shezerade was a deadly snake that burried itself in the sand, her enemies dead before they even suspected her presence, but she didn't stand a chance in close combat. She was an artist with brushed of bow and arrow, poison and traps, but she was as good with swords as a fish could dance up a mountain. Argis would be a blessing. He could cause distractions and enable her the flight to a save post.

When her knees would allow it, she pressed her ear onto the door. She could easily pick up on his heavy steps in the hallway, the door that opened and let shards of the clutter from the market drift into the room before it closed. She let out the breath she had held without knowing it and shoved open the doors. She hated closed doors, they hindered her hearing, the sense her life dependet on. She stood still for a moment and listened for the world. There was the whispers of the fire in the kitchen and that of the oven in the livingroom. They both mixed with the soft song of the world outside that boomed through the closed heavy metal doors. She went to her own rooms and pulled her only dress out of the closet. She had just given herself the rest of the day free, she might as well drop the armor. She changed with haste, always one ear pointed at the door in case Argis came back. She gently layed her bow and her quiver with arrows onto the matrace. She took her armor of carefully, watching out for any signs of it wearing down, but found none. She also layed off the sword she could not used and the small shield she didn't know why she carried. Lastly she exchanged the enchanted amulett for a necklacke of rubies that would go well with the dress.

The rest of the morning she spent cleaning up the house. She tried to prevent chaos from taking hold by carrying all the things she had brought from her adventures only to never use them again to the market. She had to go up and down several times and when the sun had reached its peak her body asked for a break, panting and exhausted. The sun burned on her fur and she flead into the cool halls of her home. She sat in the dining room and ate a good half dozen Sweetrolls, a cooked rabbitleg, drowining it with a bottle of thinned wine. The wine wasn't very good, but it was half water so she kept a clear head. She hoped Argis wouldn't be too drunk to ride tomorrow.

After her late breakfeast she dared to step outside once more and headed for the main gates of Markarth. She bowed her head to the two men that stood at the stables and followed the streets that hugged the feet of the mountains. She passed the bridge to Kolskeggr Mine to the Salvius Farm. She greeted Vidgis and was careful not to step on any crops. She had made a deal with the Salvius family: she could keep her horses on the unused land behind the farm and Vidgis and Rogatus could use one of the horses for their farmwork.

She was greeted by five different heads looking her way. She caressed them all and found treats for each and every one. After greeting Cinnamon, Griselda and Helena, she went over to Winnie and brushed her neck and mane gently with her claws.

"You will carry heavily tomorrow, sweet one." Winnie pushed her heavy head against Shezerades chest and the Khajiit smiled at the horses carelessness. She took Connamons saddle and switched it with Winnies old furr saddle. She did not want Argis to thinkg she was giving him the things she did not want anymore. She patted Winnies neck, more to calm her own nerves than those of ther horse and walked back up to Markath. She stepped through the city gate and let her gaze glide over the familiar sight of the market place. Nothing special. And now? She still had a few hours before she would allow herself to retreat into her room to go to bed, but she had nothing to do, nothing that wouldn't wait until tomorrow. She walked over the bridge to the Silverblood Inn. She knew Argis would be there, but that was all the better. She would have to deal with him anyway, and she had always preferred to know what she was getting into.


	4. Three

3

The Silverblood Inn was big and relatively empty, at least at this time. A cracking and whispering fire warmed the stone of the cold mountain and the barkeeper, Kleppr, could usually point you towards a well payed Job. Shezerade slipped through the Door, keeping the crack as slim as possible so that nobody would notice her entrance. Argis sat at the bar and spoke to a stranger, a traveler as it seemed, Kleppr brought the bard in the corner a jug of ale and nobody saw her. Just the way she liked it. She crept into a dark corner where no light touched her and pointed her ears towards the bar to catch the drifting voices of the two men. She made herself comfortable at the stone wall and concentrated to fade out the strange tounges of the fire. Sure, earsdropping wasn't the most noble of deeds, but better safe than sorry.

Argis' voice was easy to catch, it was rugh and deep like water. The voice of the traveler was smooth and sleependucing, he was probably a merchant traveling the streets of skyrim. That would also explain the two sellswords laughing near the fire.

"But forgive me, I have burdened you with my trivialities for long enough. Please allow me to redeem the favour, tell me what could press upon a soul as noble as yours." Argis seemed to hesistate, but the merchant kept speaking. "I see, you fear me tounge is loose. But do not, as soon as the sun has risen your words will have been buried by a thousand others told to me by the world." Argis nodded.

"You tell the truth, my friend, for my words are nothing mut the whining of a wounded pride. I am a proud servant of our Jarl and he has named me Huscarl to our new Thane. That is the greatest honour of my life and I should be proud to give my life to the hero of our realm, but I have met her today and my heart is heavy in dissapointment."

"As you are to serve a woman?"

"No, that is not what worries me. I knew she would be a woman and truth be told, I do not care. She has done great deeds to aid our city and our realm, I dont mind what gener the gods have given her. What I did not know is that I am to serve a damned cat. She is no hero, no warrior, nothing but another dirty thief."

"A proud nord Warrior to serve a Khajiit. I see which wounds you honour bears, you have my deepest sympathies." Argis downed his ale and bade Kleppr to give him another.

"I may not be in the position to complain and judge, I serve, but I had always hoped to serve a great hero that would lead me to Sovrengarde."

"You had hoped for better for both your mortal and immortal life."

Shezerade surpressed an angry hiss and fled as fast as she could. She took a deep breath, tasting the mountain air, and she tamed her anger about the merchant before it burst out of her. She had not expected anything else from Argis, but she had hoped that he would at least be a bit open towards her. Her dissapointment and her anger just proved to her how much she had overestimated the nord. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her breath and on the burning of the sun on her skin. The steady rythm of her heart mixed with the familiar sounds of the market and she calmed down. A look to the sky told her she still had some timw. She would prepare the ride today. What did she care if Argis was unhappy with her, if his sould would never see the gates of Sovrengarde. Not her problem. She climbed back up the stairs to the familiar doors that pressed cool and smooth against her hands. The cold breath of the Mountain welcomed her as she gave herself into its arms.

Shezerade spent the rest of the day collecting provisions for the ride into the saddlebags, caring for her armor and lying it out, ready to grab, and to inspect her weaponry. She went over every single arrow, looked at every feather, felt the tips. She pretended not to hear Agirs' steps and just kept going until she heard his doors close in her back. She prayed to the gods that the ride tomorrow would be over soon. She could also still ride alone, but that would make coming home even more akward. No, Argis would have to come. Shezerade fell asleep with a sigh.


End file.
